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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23231653">A Beautiful, Dangerous Thing</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/flockofcrows/pseuds/flockofcrows'>flockofcrows</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Unresolved Sexual Tension, minor jealousy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 12:34:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,573</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23231653</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/flockofcrows/pseuds/flockofcrows</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair learns something terrible about himself.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alistair/Morrigan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Beautiful, Dangerous Thing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Alistair sat next to the injured Mabari, gently stroking his coat. Listening to the hound's low whines had stirred something in him but nothing seemed to ease the dog's suffering. Their only hope was to reach the Circle tower in time and he was having doubts whether they could make it.</p>
<p>Surprising everyone, it had been Morrigan who had volunteered to hunt for them while they took care of the dog, citing a need for a good run in the forest. Alistair wasn't quite sure what that meant until a large black wolf stepped out of the trees by their campsite, its yellow eyes gleaming in the light of the fire. Its maw was clamped around the neck of a huge stag, thick blood dripping slowly from the limp body.</p>
<p>Everyone in camp froze for a second, staring slack-jawed, before they finally made the connection.</p>
<p>"Morrigan?" Surana asked, confused.</p>
<p>The wolf let go of the hart, the magnificent antlers hitting the moss-covered soil with an inelegant rattle. It sniffed at the ground, then slowly made its way deeper into the camp. Right toward Alistair.</p>
<p>"Why isn't she transforming back?" Alistair asked, heart rate spiking as the wolf stalked toward him, head lowered and intense eyes pinning him down. He reached for a dagger at the small of his back but did not pull it out just yet, afraid of provoking an attack. He faced monsters on a daily basis but those arresting eyes sent primal fear pumping through his veins, muscles tense and ready.</p>
<p>Huckleberry stirred at his side, lifting his heavy head and growling weakly. The wolf's eyes were drawn to the Mabari. It began growling back, hackles rising. That huge muzzle sniffed the ground around them now and Alistair held his breath, expecting the two beasts—not a beast, it was <i>Morrigan</i>—to attack each other any second, teeth flashing and skin rending.</p>
<p>The wolf sniffed at the bandages around Huckleberry's leg carefully before it went stock still. The air around Alistair started heating up, a flash blinding him momentarily and thunder booming in his ears. He fell back to the ground, catching himself on his elbows. He shook his head, dazed, the aftertaste of magic clinging to the roof of his mouth.</p>
<p>The wolf was gone and Morrigan stood above him, stark naked and all but glowing in the moonlight, yellow eyes boring into him, the blood of the hart still on her teeth.</p>
<p>"I suggest you have the dog's wounds cleaned again with a better tincture, unless you want him to lose that leg."</p>
<p>She stepped over him, uncaring, and made her way toward her tent. Alistair stared after her, speechless, heart hammering wildly.</p>
<p>"What a remarkable woman," Zevran said next to him, breaking him out of his trance.</p>
<p>Alistair got himself to sit up properly and rested his elbows on his knees.</p>
<p>"I want to smite that witch," he said, glowering after her.</p>
<p>"I'm sure you do, my friend," Zevran said, his eyebrows jumping suggestively.</p>
<p>"I mean literally, with a Holy Smite."</p>
<p>"Well, if you do, my advice is to smite her hard and all night long," Zevran laughed.</p>
<p>Alistair's face turned beet red. The elf was truly incorrigible.</p>
<p>He turned to check the bandages around the Mabari's leg, trying to get the whole thing out of his mind. Surana joined him soon enough to help, muttering something about learning healing magic the first chance she got before they started the slow and careful process of changing Huckleberry's bandages.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div>The rising sun found them by the docks at the Circle of Magi, Surana trying to cajole the Templar stationed by the ships into letting them cross the lake to the tower.<p>"Seriously, Carroll?" Surana asked, peeved. "We've known each other for years! You know I can be trusted and you know damn well I could help with whatever is happening in the Circle. Just let us pass."</p>
<p>"I have my orders," Carroll replied, sounding bored, though Alistair saw him eying Morrigan. "Is that an apostate you have with you?"</p>
<p>"Of course not," Surana lied through her teeth.</p>
<p>"Perhaps she should stay here anyway," Carroll said, his eyes wandering down Morrigan's body. "The tower is dull and standing out here all day gets so lonely..."</p>
<p>Alistair's face twisted in anger. He hadn't seen a Templar proposition a mage, an apostate no less, so blatantly before. It was irresponsible and dangerous at best, and frowned upon by the order for a good reason.</p>
<p>Morrigan took a few steps towards the Templar, hips swaying, a smile that Alistair could tell was more dangerous than seductive lifting the corners of her mouth.</p>
<p>"If you leave the lad to my care, he shall not have the use of his limbs <i>or</i> his eyes by the time I am done with him."</p>
<p>The Templar seemed to snap out of it, stammering something about changing his mind, and hurried down to the boat that would take them across the lake. Morrigan shot a self-satisfied smile toward Surana, then ambled after the Templar.</p>
<p>"And you wonder why I don't trust her..." Alistair muttered under his breath.</p>
<p>Surana chuckled to herself next to him before joining the other mage by the boat. Alistair adjusted the sword on his back and followed her, glaring at Carroll as he passed him by.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div>The stench that greeted them inside the tower almost made Alistair recoil. He saw no blood in the hall but he could smell it everywhere, like the very stone of Kinloch Hold was soaked with it.<p>Surana put on a brave face and led them straight into the fray, beyond the door that guarded the handful of survivors still left in the Circle. Each floor seemed worse than the last, the demons' corruption evident all around them.</p>
<p>The blood mages they stumbled upon were a downright relief after the horrific sight of the abominations. Surana <i>almost</i> let them go. Alistair saw her wavering, torn between anger and mercy, but anger won in the end.</p>
<p>The fireball she hurled at them did more damage to the upturned shelves and scattered books than to the blood mages but she hardly seemed to care. Alistair made a mental note to keep his distance from her and unsheathed his sword, attacking the first mage he caught sight of.</p>
<p>The fight was unusually loud, each shout and clang of metal ringing clear in the tall hallways. Even with Wynne's magic aiding him, Alistair felt strangely vulnerable as the only warrior in the room, spells he couldn't even begin to name zipping past his ears. He knocked one of the mages to the ground with his shield, thankful for the quick reprieve as he downed a potion to make withstanding their attacks easier.</p>
<p>Then his gaze fell on Morrigan and the empty flask slipped out of his clumsy gauntleted fingers, shattering at his feet. She was twirling her staff in her hands, a wide smile on her lips as she brought fire down on the blood mages, the blaze lighting up her eyes. It was like she was dancing, just like her mother had said, the flames bending around her, licking along her waist and arms without burning her as she weaved her way through the battle. The heat plastered wisps of hair to her face and neck, sweat shining on her skin as she panted for breath. Alistair swallowed, fingers tightening around his sword, before burning pain zapped through his body and he fell to one knee, a cry tearing at his throat.</p>
<p>One of the mages stepped in front of him, lifting her staff for another attack before Alistair could right himself, but she started convulsing out of the blue, eyes wide and horror-struck as she whimpered bitten-off words to herself. Alistair frowned in confusion and turned around, searching for Morrigan in the crowd. She was just lowering her own staff, her eyes meeting his.</p>
<p>Alistair felt a pang of shame in his chest. She probably thought he was an idiot for letting that mage get a hit in.</p>
<p>He grumbled under his breath as he stood up, determined to shake off the thought and get his head back in the fight. Trying to impress Morrigan had always been futile; he had no earthly clue why he even felt the urge to do so now.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div>An eternity and a disturbing trip to the Fade later, they were standing outside the tower arguing.<p>"You want us to trudge all the way back to camp after the day we just had?" Alistair asked Surana indignantly. Huckleberry, freshly-healed and strong as ever, yawned next to him.</p>
<p>"It'd save us some money," Surana replied. </p>
<p>"'Tis good to know money is your only concern, Warden..." Morrigan said mockingly, crossing her arms and canting her hips.</p>
<p>"And here I thought you said you <i>liked</i> us," Alistair added wryly.</p>
<p>Surana put up her hands.</p>
<p>"Alright, you win, I can't stand up against the combined power of your sarcasm. The Spoiled Princess it is."</p>
<p>Alistair and Morrigan exchanged glances, quietly triumphant, but neither of them said anything.</p>
<p>Surana insisted on sharing a room with Wynne to catch up on what had happened in the tower since her departure, which left him with Morrigan. Alistair hauled his packs up the stairs and appraised the small space the two of them were supposed to share without tearing each other's throats out. He decided then and there he would rather spend the evening down at the tavern and stay out for as long as possible. If he was lucky, Morrigan would be asleep by the time he came back and they could skip the argument that was bound to happen otherwise.</p>
<p>Not that hours spent at the tavern proved to be any more enjoyable. The patrons were dour, the atmosphere stifling, and Alistair could swear the innkeeper glared at him from behind the counter every time he asked for another ale. Surana and Wynne remained cooped up in their room and not even Huckleberry was around to have a one-sided conversation with.</p>
<p>Alistair sighed and threw back the last of his ale, his chair scraping against the floor as he finally stood.</p>
<p>He made his way up the rickety stairs, trying to keep his steps light in the hopes of not waking up Morrigan if she was already asleep. He winced when the door leading to their room creaked open and he inwardly cursed Surana again for putting him in this situation.</p>
<p>The room was silent, the light of the hearth painting everything a warm orange. Their packs were piled on their respective beds though it seemed like only his had remained untouched.</p>
<p>Alistair nearly choked on his own spit when he noticed Morrigan. She was standing by the vanity, her herbalism kit laid out in front of her as she worked on something. She had changed into what looked like her sleep clothes, a simple long-sleeved tunic that covered her up more than her normal mage robes, except she was wearing nothing else, her long, creamy legs on display.</p>
<p>"Um, you're still up?" Alistair asked before he could stop himself, gripping the door handle for dear life.</p>
<p>"As you can see, I have a lot of work still left to do," Morrigan replied. "I do not understand why Surana insisted I be the one to make potions tonight. She is the self-appointed herbalist of our group," she mused out loud, her velvety voice lacking its usual mocking edge.</p>
<p>She seemed to be distracted by whatever she was doing. Alistair watched her uncork a small vial, carefully tilting it and letting a single drop of its clear contents land in the mortar in front of her. The concoction sizzled like acid and hot oil, the faint wisp of smoke rising from it tickling Alistair's nose. It occurred to him he would end up drinking that potion one of these days and he hazily questioned his own sanity.</p>
<p>"She's probably too busy gossiping with Wynne," Alistair offered, eyes still glued to what Morrigan was doing.</p>
<p>The witch scoffed in disapproval but didn't say anything.</p>
<p>"I'll just..." Alistair licked his lips nervously and finally closed the door. "I'll just go to bed then."</p>
<p>"Suit yourself," Morrigan said without looking up.</p>
<p>Alistair quickly sat down on his bed, busying himself with removing his gauntlets, trying to avoid looking at her. He undid the ties holding his breastplate and shin guards in place, arranging each piece at the end of his bed. He stole a glance at Morrigan when a vial started bubbling loudly on her desk, drawing his attention for only a moment before his eyes were on her again. She was cutting up something that looked like an overgrown water lily, the small silver dagger she sometimes used for collecting herbs flashing dangerously in the firelight. Alistair swallowed, watching as she decimated the poor flower with unnerving precision. Her face was impassive, though she seemed calmer than usual, absorbed in her work. Her necklace glittered in the warm light of the fire, thick and heavy like armor around her neck. He wondered why she was still wearing it for the night, the weight of it resting below the inviting skin of the nape of her neck.</p>
<p>Morrigan corked the vial once the potion was done, frowning as she turned a few pages in the book in front of her, searching for something, before she refocused her attention on the various ingredients. She was getting ready to make poultices now judging by what little he could see. He angled his head, his gaze sweeping down her back and her legs. She bent forward slightly and Alistair bit his lip to keep in a surprised keening sound as her tunic rode up higher, revealing a tantalizing stripe of skin just bellow the curve of her butt.</p>
<p>Alistair screwed his eyes shut. Oh Maker, what was he <i>doing</i> staring at her like that?</p>
<p>He hesitantly opened one eye then the other. If she caught him looking, she'd set him on fire. And yet he couldn't stop, fear and... want warring with each other in him.</p>
<p>Want. No, that couldn't be, not with Morrigan, horrible, dangerous, beautiful Morrigan. He'd have to be a fool to want her. </p>
<p>Watching her lit by the warm firelight made him want to go to her though, to kiss her shoulder and neck and mouth, to pull her close and— </p>
<p>His eyes slipped closed in defeat. She was apparently even more dangerous than he had expected.</p>
<p>"I believe you said you were going to sleep," Morrigan said over her shoulder. "Why are you still up?"</p>
<p>"T-templar meditations," Alistair stammered out as his eyes flew open and felt rather proud of himself for coming up with an excuse on the spot. "They help keep the Warden nightmares manageable."</p>
<p>They didn't but he was fairly certain she didn't know that.</p>
<p>"As long as you keep quiet," Morrigan said and turned back to her potions.</p>
<p>Alistair's shoulders slumped in relief.</p>
<p>He cleared his throat and toed off his boots, lying back on the bed. He put an arm under his pillow to support his head, absently watching her work while he waited for sleep to claim him. For all her venom and scorn, she really was quite pretty. </p>
<p>He frowned, took one more look at her and turned on his other side, burying his face in his pillow. Maker, he was in so much trouble now.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Title from <a href="https://ponticle.tumblr.com/post/141783344519/morristair-my-heart">this</a> conversation between Alistair and a male Warden about Morrigan.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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